


Eavesdropping

by tinzelda



Category: due South
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-11
Updated: 2013-01-11
Packaged: 2017-11-25 03:01:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/634414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinzelda/pseuds/tinzelda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five years post-CotW, Fraser has regrets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eavesdropping

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks once again to pharis for being my ever-faithful beta and cheerleader. (And I can never thank you enough for leading me to this bizarre and wonderful hobby.)

Fraser had a book open in front of him as he finished his last few bites of stew, but he wasn’t able to concentrate on reading. He sighed and centered his fork on his plate, preparing to rise and head back to the detachment. But then he heard his name. Women’s voices. He stopped and couldn’t help but listen.

“No, you’d better keep looking. When he first came to town I thought he might be good for my sister, but I keep inviting him for dinner, and he keeps saying he can’t come. Kind of strange really. He’s so polite, but he’s just not _friendly_.”

Hearing this and instantly realizing that the women were talking about _him_ , Fraser didn’t feel hurt. Not exactly. It was true, after all, that he wasn’t friendly. He had thought that being generally pleasant would somehow obscure that fact.

“Did he know you were playing matchmaker?”

“I don’t think so.”

Fraser recognized the voices: Marjorie McInley, who came in to do the little bit of cleaning the detachment required in its offices, and the new part-time secretary whose name Fraser couldn’t remember. Fraser hadn’t realized they were friends.

“And it’s not like it was a big deal,” Marjorie continued. “We were just having a few people over, you know? Thought we’d invite the new guy. But I don’t take it personally. I mean, he doesn’t go out at all. He’s always working, and if he’s not he’s always at home.”

“How do you know? He might have friends somewhere else. Or maybe he’s seeing some lucky girl on the sly.”

“He doesn’t even have a car! So he isn’t seeing friends in another town, and if he were spending time with someone here I’d know about it.”

Fraser sighed. He had spent most of his life in small communities, but the intense interest certain people had in the private lives of others never failed to amaze him.

“Well, maybe he’s just shy,” the young secretary said. “Now that he’s really settled you should ask him again.”

“The last time I asked was just three days ago! Plus Joanne has asked him for dinner too, and she didn’t have any luck either.”

“She probably scared him, the poor guy. She comes on a little strong.”

“Most men like that,” Marjorie said.

“Hmm. Maybe he’s gay?”

Both women burst into laughter, and Fraser felt his face reddening.

The waitress approached with Fraser’s check, and he quietly ordered a slice of pie just so he could stay in his seat until the gossips left. He couldn’t imagine walking past their table now, even if it didn’t occur to them that he might have overheard. His blush still hadn’t completely faded.

When Fraser heard the women leave the restaurant, he sighed and stood to go himself. He wasn’t angry at those women. It was his own fault. His grandmother had always told him that it was wrong to eavesdrop. A person who listened in deserved to hear something he didn’t like.

Fraser tried not to play the conversation over in his mind as he walked back to his office, but it was hard to push it away. He had been with this detachment for about six months, which wasn’t all that much time to settle in and make a home for himself. However, Fraser had been at his last posting for more than four years before a promotion brought him to this slightly larger town, and he hadn’t felt any more comfortable in that community than he did in this one. Most of the time he was content to simply do his job and look to Diefenbaker for companionship, but every so often Fraser was reminded that there was something missing.

A less disciplined man would have found it easy to allow the idle gossip to settle him into a gloomy mood, but Fraser brewed a cup of tea and fixed his attention on the requisition forms he’d left out on his desk before lunch.

*****

“You asked to see me, sir?”

Inspector Baffin looked up from the sheaf of papers he was reading. “Fraser! Yes, please sit down.”

“Thank you, sir.” Fraser perched on the rickety chair in front of Baffin’s large, cluttered desk.

“I just had a very interesting phone call. From the States!”

“The States, sir?”

“Yes, your old stomping ground.” Baffin looked delighted, his florid cheeks reflecting the light from his desk lamp. He clearly expected Fraser to be pleased as well.

“Chicago!”

“Ah.” Fraser shifted in his chair, and it complained with an ominous creak. He forced himself to sit still.

“Seems you made quite a splash down there, Fraser. Impressed a lot of people, hmm?”

_No_ , Fraser wanted to say. _I was a freak_. But he responded with only a small, bland smile.

“It’s been years since you were there, hasn’t it?”

“Yes, sir. Almost five years.” Fraser didn’t think the Inspector would need to know the precise number of months and days.

“Well, then, this will be wonderful for you!”

“I’m sorry, sir. I’m not sure I—”

“Oh, right, right. Here,” Baffin said, handing Fraser a thick packet.

Fraser skimmed the page, which described a conference on relations between indigenous people and federal governments. There were several panels mentioned, addressing such topics as casinos on reservations and the creation of Nunavut. Fraser sighed. He could only imagine the self-congratulatory propaganda that would be spouted at this discussion, as if formation of the new state could truly atone for past mistreatment of First Nations peoples. And although he believed Nunavut had been a positive step forward, too little had been done in the years since.

However, every political thought flew out of his brain when he noticed the list of agencies participating in the event: various Canadian and American government departments, the RCMP, a private security company, a lone representative from Australia, and the Chicago Police Department. He could force his eyes past those last three words.

“I’m not sure I understand, sir.” Fraser rubbed his eyebrow. “What does this have to do with me?”

“You’re going!”

“To the conference?”

“Yes! I got the letter in the mail weeks ago, but it got lost in this mess here.” Baffin gestured at the piles of paper on his desk. “I’d forgotten all about it, I’m sorry to say. Then just now I got a phone call. They want you there. Once they knew the RCMP was sending a representative, they requested you.”

“But sir, I’m sure there are people who would be better suited for this assignment. I—”

“Nonsense! You’ll do a remarkable job, I’m sure.” Rising from his seat, Baffin walked around the desk and clamped his hand on Fraser’s shoulder. “You’ve never let me down yet. And as I said, you were specifically requested. Somebody remembers you. That’s a good thing, son.” He winked at Fraser. “Never hurts to have friends in high places.” He chuckled and thumped Fraser on the back several times, making the chair squeak alarmingly.

“No, sir. But urban environments have never been—”

Inspector Baffin continued as if Fraser hadn’t spoken. “You leave on the fourteenth. There will be a few days of meetings to prepare. I’m sure they’ll be tiresome, but you’ll have your evenings free. Plenty of time to look around. See old friends, hmm? And then the event begins on the seventeenth. Stay through the weekend if you like.” He patted Fraser one last time and went back to his seat.

Clearly Fraser was dismissed, but he didn’t leave Baffin’s office right away. He cleared his throat and summoned the courage to ask the question that had been on his mind ever since he heard the words “specifically requested.”

“Pardon me, sir, but may I ask you who requested my presence at the conference?”

Baffin looked surprised. “I don’t actually know. I spoke to a secretary or an assistant of some sort, and she never said who asked for you. I imagine it was someone from the police department. Someone you worked with.”

Fraser’s heart started to beat more quickly. “I’m sure you’re right, sir. Thank you kindly.”

“Thank you, Fraser. Good night.”

As soon as the office door was closed, Fraser was flipping through the stapled pages, skimming each one, looking for a familiar name as he walked slowly away. When he found a sheet from the CPD, he stopped in the narrow hallway to read it carefully.

Perhaps Lieutenant Welsh had asked for him. That was certainly possible, but Fraser couldn’t find Welsh’s name. Or any other names he recognized. Then he turned to the next sheet, which contained information about the security company he’d noted earlier. It seemed strange that additional private security was considered necessary for an event organized by a handful of government agencies and two separate police forces, but security had become a touchy issue in the past couple of years.

Fraser reached his desk and sat down before he looking at the paper again. He read all of the text, which described the general plan for security measures at the hotel where the conference was being held, but saw nothing helpful. Then just before he turned the page, he saw it, at the top of the page in the company letterhead: S. Raymond Kowalski, Vice President.

Ray. _Ray_ had asked for him to be at the conference.

For a moment, Fraser felt light-headed. Ray wanted to see him? Fraser couldn’t let himself believe it.

Fraser tried to focus on certain information. Like the fact that Ray was no longer an officer in the Chicago PD. And the fact that he was vice president of a company that was obviously doing well. So he must be comfortable, financially speaking. He had moved on in life. These things were interesting and maybe even important, but not dangerous. Fraser didn’t want his mind to roam into dangerous territory, but thinking of Ray, seeing his name in print when he wasn’t expecting it, Fraser was flooded with a jumble of memories he couldn’t stop.

He could picture Ray as he looked his last night in Canada after their quest, so boyish, his cheeks burned slightly pink by sun and wind. His hair needed cutting, and several times Fraser had to stop himself from reaching out to push loose strands away from Ray’s forehead. Most of all, Fraser remembered Ray’s infectious enthusiasm. Fraser had been tense, anticipating Ray’s departure, but when he saw Ray, almost bouncing down the street, he found himself smiling.

“I want a big old steak, Fraser. You think you can find that here?”

“Well, Ray, we don’t typically eat a lot of beef, and if the restaurant does have any, it would most likely be frozen.”

“As long as it’s not cut up into teensy pieces and dehydrated, I’m good.”

Then Ray flashed a brilliant, overwhelming smile at Fraser.

_Remember this_ , he told himself. _Remember how it feels to have him here, smiling that smile_. Fraser couldn’t let it bother him that Ray was happy because he was leaving.

The only restaurant in town did indeed serve steak: caribou. Ray rolled his eyes, but he didn’t complain and seemed to savor the meal. Fraser didn’t have much of an appetite.

Walking back to their room, Ray grew quiet, and Fraser was relieved that Ray’s mood was dampened. It wasn’t that he wanted Ray to feel as desolate as he himself felt, but he had hoped Ray would experience at least a few pangs at leaving him behind. It wasn’t terribly late, and Fraser suggested sitting downstairs by the fireplace for a while before they went to bed. He thought it might help to have a quiet conversation with Ray, as they had had every night while they were camping, but Ray was eager to go up to their room, even though he didn’t seem tired.

At that point, Fraser’s memory started to fail him. He didn’t often allow himself to recall that night. The details had blurred from not being revived in his mind, and what he did remember was further clouded by emotion. There were flashes of clarity here and there. The fear in Ray’s eyes just before he kissed Fraser for the first time. The surprising gentleness of Ray’s hands sliding over his skin. The moan that came from Ray’s throat when Fraser settled on top of him, pressing him into the bed. The roughness in Ray’s voice when he begged Fraser to fuck him.

Fraser’s breath caught at the thought, and he remembered how breathless he had felt that night. He would open his mouth to speak, trying to say “Ray, please stop” or “Ray, we can’t.” But all that had come out was “Ray . . . Ray . . . Ray . . .”

Almost every other detail about that night had been lost. The next thing Fraser remembered clearly was sitting in an RCMP office, explaining that he wanted a posting in the most remote area possible, with the fewest people and the largest expanse of open land.

*****

Stepping onto the sidewalk from the airport taxi felt like traveling back in time. Not only because it was strange to return to Chicago, but because it was still autumn. There was no snow on the ground, and the skinny trees planted in gaps in the pavement had a good number of brown, shriveled leaves clinging to their branches.

Fraser looked at the reflective surface of the windows in front of him and imagined Ray walking through the revolving doors every morning. It didn’t seem possible.

Taking a bracing breath, Fraser entered the lobby and walked directly to the bank of elevators. There was a crush of people waiting with him, but already it was easier for him to be in a crowd than it had been at the airport, which had seemed oppressively busy, packed with disgruntled business travelers.

The elevator doors opened to reveal a pair of pleasant-looking receptionists, one of whom took Fraser’s bag and guided him through a maze of corridors to a conference room. The room, like everything else in the building, was streamlined and modern. Fraser was the first one to arrive, and he hovered near the table, not wanting to choose his seat before the more important participants. Hearing quiet voices in the hall, Fraser came close to the doorway.

“What’s with him? He’s been barking at everyone all morning,” said a young man’s voice.

“Sssssh, I know,” a woman answered. “And it’s been more like all _week_ , not just this morning.”

“This is an easy gig, right? There’s not anything you haven’t told me, is there?”

“No, it’s pretty straightforward. I don’t even think they need us, really. I don’t think terrorists care one bit about Native American issues,” the woman said. Then she sighed. “Maybe it’s because his old partner is here. I think he wants to impress this guy. He asked me to come down here without him and then call once everyone’s settled. He said to make sure to say ‘Mr. Kowalski’ at first and then say ‘Ray’ when I call. It’s like he wants to play the big boss or something, which is weird, cause he never does stuff like that.”

Fraser realized at once what Ray hoped to accomplish by having this woman say his name like that. He didn’t just want to make her jump through hoops, and he wasn’t trying to appear busier and more important than he actually was. He was trying to warn Fraser, give him a moment to prepare before walking into the room. Fraser was sure of it.

Fraser realized the voices were getting closer and stepped away from the door. A man entered alone, smiled absently at Fraser, and then went straight back out. Then Fraser heard his colleagues approaching. They all filed in and filled the chairs near the head of the table, leaving a seat for Fraser at the far end.

When Fraser sat down and pulled his chair forward, he was disconcerted to see his own knees through the glass tabletop. He set his folder and note pad side by side directly in front of him so that the surface appeared more solid. Once everyone had taken a seat, a quiet secretary or assistant of some sort circled the table, offering coffee and tea, which Fraser refused. He wished things were running more promptly. A glance at his watch told him that it was already almost fifteen minutes after the appointed time.

A woman entered the room with a laptop computer under one arm and set it carefully down on the conference table. She was every bit as sleek as the office, her dark hair cut close to her head and her navy blue suit perfectly tailored. Fraser tried to stem an instant feeling of dislike.

“Good afternoon,” she began. “Mr. Kowalski has been detained for a few minutes, and he’s asked me to come down and get things started. My name is Charlotte Harper, and I’m Mr. Kowalski’s assistant. I’m prepared to answer any questions you might have about our company in general before Mr. Kowalski comes to give our presentation.”

Fraser recognized her voice from the hallway. He didn’t like the thought of an assistant discussing Ray’s behavior with another co-worker. It was unprofessional and disloyal.

As she fielded the few questions that arose, Ms. Harper plugged the laptop into a cable that emerged from a hole in the table. With a few keystrokes she turned on a large screen on the wall behind her, which displayed the company logo. When Fraser’s colleagues seemed to have exhausted their questions, Ms. Harper excused herself and took a step back. She pulled out a tiny cell phone and pressed a single button. “Ray? We’re ready for you.”

Fraser felt his hand tense around the pen he was holding, so he set it on the table, lining it up with the edge of his folder. Then he waited, his heart pounding.

He purposefully did not watch the doorway, but his eyes were drawn there just the same the second Ray entered. Ray’s eyes found Fraser quickly too, and Fraser scolded himself for wearing his dress uniform. It hadn’t occurred to him to choose anything else, but he should have realized how it would make him stand out among the dark suits surrounding the conference table. They watched each other for a moment as Ray approached the table, then Fraser lowered his chin in a slow nod. Ray’s chin jerked upward in a way that seemed half defiant and half inviting. Fraser’s stomach clenched.

Ray immediately turned his attention to the room at large and started the meeting, but Fraser wasn’t able to listen. He had planned to study the papers in front of him, and he tried to look at the detailed diagrams on the monitor that Ray was explaining, but he couldn’t drag his gaze away from Ray.

Ray looked so different. His hair was slightly longer and was brushed smoothly back from his forehead instead of standing up, spiky and uncontrolled. He wore glasses, but they were not the familiar thick black frames. These had oval lenses with no frames at all, and the metal earpieces were so thin as to be almost invisible. Ray was obviously as fit as ever, and his elegant gray suit showed his lean frame to advantage, but his movements weren’t the frenetic, energetic _Ray_ that Fraser remembered. When Ray indicated the screen behind him with one hand, the gesture was fluid, restrained. Fraser thought back to the way that Ray had entered the room. Even that had been strange—a quiet entrance, no bluster. It was as if the volume had been turned down.

Fraser allowed himself to study Ray’s face. He didn’t look so very different. He didn’t seem to have aged much, other than a few lines around his eyes and mouth. But it made him look careworn rather than older. As if a good night’s rest would bring him back to the Ray Fraser knew. The thought was bothersome.

Ray’s face stayed expressionless as he spoke, professional and calm. His hands were mostly still, but when they moved it was in that alien, placid manner. Ray avoided looking anywhere near Fraser, instead keeping his eyes fixed on the projection of the presentation or at some vague point over the heads of everyone at the table.

The entire meeting passed without Fraser absorbing anything. He rose from his seat when he noticed that those around him were standing. Ray was still at the head of the table shuffling through some papers.

Ms. Harper raised her voice slightly to be heard over the murmurs of conversation. “If you would all please step across the hall, we have a lunch buffet in the other conference room. Please help yourself, and then while we eat we’ll have more time for questions.”

As everyone filed out, Ms. Harper approached Ray to speak to him, standing right by his side, her head bent close to his. Ray tilted his head and leaned into her to listen, and Fraser could tell that Ray liked this woman, trusted her. The intense flare of jealousy Fraser felt surprised him. He had no reason to think that Ms. Harper was anything but Ray’s business associate, but her proximity to Ray made Fraser seethe.

Fraser’s feet were moving before he could stop himself. Ray looked up at Fraser’s approach, his face wary.

“Fraser,” Ray said quietly.

Fraser forced a smile. “Ray! It’s wonderful to see you.”

Ray nodded as if accepting the polite façade and turned to Ms. Harper.

“Charlotte, this is my old partner, Constable Benton—”

“Sergeant,” Fraser corrected.

“What?” Ray looked annoyed at the interruption.

“Sergeant,” Fraser repeated, reaching out to shake Ms. Harper’s hand. “Sergeant Benton Fraser. Very nice to meet you, Ms. Harper.”

“Sergeant?” Ray’s annoyed expression was gone, and Fraser could see that Ray was almost smiling. He seemed genuinely happy about Fraser’s promotion. “That’s great, Fraser.”

“Thank you, Ray.”

Then Ray frowned and turned his face away. 

Fraser was thankful when Ms. Harper spoke to break the awkward pause. “I’m so glad to meet you, Sergeant Fraser. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Yes?” Fraser answered. He was having trouble following what she was saying.

“Oh, yeah,” she said with a laugh. “You haven’t come down here to get Ray into trouble, have you?”

Fraser couldn’t think of an answer, and he glanced at Ray for some clue of what to say. Ray’s mouth was pinched, and his eyes were suspicious.

“Not at all,” Fraser stuttered. “I—”

Ms. Harper suddenly held up a hand. “Oh! Excuse me. I’d better check on lunch. Make sure everything is going OK.”

Ray watched her walk to the door. “Thanks, Charlotte.”

Ray turned to Fraser, and their eyes met. For just a split second, Fraser could see the pain there. Fraser raised his hand without even thinking, but Ray flinched and stepped away. He snatched up his scattered papers and snapped the laptop closed. Pulling everything into his arms in a ragged bundle, Ray jerked his head toward the hallway.

“Come on,” he said. “I’m starving.”

*****

During the afternoon meeting, there were many questions that only Ray seemed able to answer, so he had many demands on his time. Fraser watched from the periphery and was impressed with Ray’s knowledge and professional manner. It seemed Ray’s company had found a perfect niche in the post-9/11, security-conscious world, running various meetings in terms of both security and general management.

Ray referred to several other projects that he had worked on, including one for the Canadian consulate. Fraser bristled at the idea of the RCMP contracting private security for an event on what was technically Canadian soil, but he supposed his remote posting gave him the luxury of largely ignoring the outside world, a luxury that couldn’t exist in a big city like Chicago.

All afternoon Fraser hoped for some small window in which he could have Ray’s undivided attention, but that moment never came. Perhaps Ray was avoiding him on purpose. At around four o’clock Fraser was herded out of the office building with his fellow Canadians and off to a nearby hotel without having so much as another word with Ray.

As soon as Fraser closed the hotel room door behind him, he began pulling off his uniform. After a shower and a meticulous shave, he looked at the clock and was disappointed to see that only twenty-two minutes had passed. There were still over 14 hours to fill before the meeting the next morning, and Fraser knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep. His colleagues had discussed gathering in the hotel restaurant for dinner, but Fraser was sure he couldn’t sit through another couple of hours with them and remain pleasant. He thought some fresh air might help.

Considering his options for dinner, he told himself he had no particular destination in mind. For a while he was able to delay the inevitable, but it didn’t take long before he was walking through a familiar neighborhood. Ray’s favorite Chinese restaurant. The Italian place where Ray liked the linguine fra diavolo. The diner they used to visit after working late at night.

Fraser didn’t stop until he was outside Ray’s building. The windows of Ray’s apartment were dark, and Fraser didn’t see Ray’s car parked anywhere nearby. Fraser intended to leave after just a few minutes, but he felt trapped there. He stood across the street, his eyes alternating between the dark windows and the front door of the building.

A light finally snapped on in Ray’s apartment, making Fraser jump. Fraser was certain that Ray couldn’t have entered without his notice. Had Ray been taking a nap and then awakened to turn on the light? A figure appeared in one window, closing the curtains. Fraser held his breath. At the second window the silhouette was more distinct, and it was clearly feminine.

_No, no, no_ , Fraser thought to himself. But he knew he had no right to think it. It had been a long time. Of course someone with Ray’s attractions and affectionate nature had found someone to share his home. Fraser had made his own choice five years ago. So why should he feel such a sense of loss now?

Fraser watched the lights in the window he knew not how long. Then the lights went out. Fraser scanned the face of the building. No other lights turned off, and no one else exited the building before an attractive blonde came into view at the front door. Her build certainly matched that of the figure Fraser had seen in Ray’s window. In a moment, Fraser decided to follow. He pulled off his hat and waited until she turned the corner before he took off after her.

The woman’s brisk, purposeful stride and her tasteful suit and heels forcibly reminded Fraser of Stella Kowalski. With that distracting thought, Fraser almost missed it when she turned and entered a restaurant. Fraser slowed his pace as he approached and stopped when he was directly in front of the restaurant’s glass doors.

He could see the blonde woman speaking with the hostess, and he held his breath when he saw a man’s arm clad in a dark gray suit slide around the woman’s waist. She turned and smiled—she was truly lovely—and Fraser steeled himself to see Ray with her, sure that he would greet her with a kiss.

Indeed, she did lean forward for an embrace, but as Fraser stepped closer he could see the man’s hair, blond but much darker than Ray’s, and the man had a thick goatee and moustache. Not Ray at all.

A flood of emotion left Fraser breathless. He reminded himself that what he had wanted and expected when he sent Ray back to Chicago was for Ray to go home and live the life he was supposed to live, with a wife and children. He thought that he would have been happy to see Ray living that life. But Fraser had hated the idea of watching Ray kiss that woman, and now that he knew she wasn’t Ray’s companion, he felt only relief. Fraser was disgusted with himself. He should want to see for himself that Ray had moved on, to kill the tiny spark of hope that kept him from feeling resigned to the choice he had made.

Fraser walked away from the restaurant, not paying attention to where he was going. It bothered him not to know where Ray was. It felt strange to be in the same city as Ray and not know how to find him. He decided to go back to Ray’s old building and see whether the landlady still remembered him. Perhaps she could tell him something about Ray’s new home.

*****

The next morning dragged. There were meetings, but Ray wasn’t at any of them. Fraser’s only activities were looking at his watch and contemplating what he would actually say to Ray once he got the chance. Ms. Harper ushered them all through another luncheon buffet, and Fraser was certain Ray would have to make an appearance at the afternoon meetings, but instead the company’s president was there.

It wasn’t until well after five o’clock, when the president invited everyone to dinner, that Fraser began to have hope again. He overheard Ms. Harper calling Ray and making it clear that his presence was expected.

When they reached the restaurant, Fraser found it remarkably easy to maneuver around the table and secure two chairs together. Ray arrived last and frowned when he saw that the only empty seat was right next to Fraser, which dampened Fraser’s enthusiasm more than a little. Why had Ray gone to the effort of having Fraser brought to the conference if he didn’t want to speak with him?

Ray fell into the chair.

“Hello, Ray,” Fraser said quietly.

“Yeah. Uh . . . Hey there, Fraser.” Ray answered.

Fraser realized that Ray was nervous. Of course. Ray wanted to see Fraser, but now that they were together, Ray felt just as unsure and uncomfortable as Fraser did. Knowing they were on equal footing made Fraser feel better.

Fraser leaned close. “Ray, I know this may be awkward—”

Ray jerked away slightly and turned to glare at Fraser. “Not now,” he whispered.

Fraser only nodded. He could be patient.

Ray turned away and struck up a conversation with the man on his other side, and all Fraser saw throughout most of the meal was Ray’s left ear and the back of his head. When Ray finally turned back to Fraser, he didn’t say anything at first. Pushing his still half-full plate away, Ray watched Fraser for several long moments. It jangled Fraser’s nerves, so he was startled when Ray spoke. 

“How’s Dief?”

“He’s doing well. He’s getting older, of course. Slowing down a bit, so I thought I’d better not bring him along. But he’s surprisingly uncomplaining. I think he wants to pretend nothing has changed.”

Silence descended again. Fraser picked at the last of his dinner.

“You don’t like asparagus,” Ray observed.

“It’s not my favorite vegetable, no.”

“You hate it,” Ray insisted.

Fraser frowned.

Ray breathed out in a huff. “Why are you eating it?”

“I don’t want to be rude, Ray.”

“It’s not rude, Fraser. Just say ‘Thanks but no thanks.’ Or don’t say anything. The waiter doesn’t care. I don’t care. No one cares if you eat your asparagus.”

“It’s very nutritious, Ray.”

Ray laughed, but it was humorless. “So what? Just cause it’s there, you’re gonna eat it? You don’t have to take something just because somebody offers it to you. You have a choice, you know. It’s not being rude, it’s just—” A horrified look swept over Ray’s face.

Fraser reached over and grabbed Ray’s arm, holding on tightly. 

“Ray.”

Ray cringed and tried to stand.

“Ray,” Fraser whispered. “Ray!” He leaned close, still gripping Ray’s arm, which felt hard, the muscles tense. Fraser was very aware that this was the first time he had touched Ray. Fraser glanced around, and the general conversation at the table was loud enough that he doubted anyone would overhear. “I know what you’re thinking, Ray, and I assure you that situation was nothing like this one. Nothing. That night I did not . . . take what was offered just to be polite.”

Ray looked at Fraser and seemed to believe that Fraser was telling the truth. Ray even nodded to show that he understood. But as soon as Fraser relaxed his grip, Ray pulled his arm away, got up from the table, and walked out of the restaurant. No one seemed to notice that Ray had disappeared. Perhaps they assumed that he had gone to the restroom. It didn’t seem to occur to anyone that he never returned.

Once the polite goodnights were said, Fraser started walking toward Ray’s new home. He knew he couldn’t run the whole way, so when he saw a taxi pull up to a restaurant further down the block and let out a couple of passengers, he ran to jump into it.

Fraser’s information proved to be incomplete. He had a street address but no apartment number, a fact that didn’t enter his mind until the cab pulled up in front of a sizable building. The mailboxes in the lobby did not list the residents’ names. Fraser hoped he wouldn’t have to knock on very many doors before he found the right one, and he was lucky. In apartment 1B was a very helpful young woman who immediately recognized Ray in Fraser’s detailed description and said he lived on the third floor. As Fraser knocked on Ray’s door, he could hear loud music coming from inside.

Ray looked puzzled when he opened the door. He obviously wasn’t expecting anyone. When he saw that it was Fraser who had knocked, he let his head fall to rest on the edge of the door with a bump, and he groaned.

“Go away, Fraser.” Ray said quietly. “Just . . . Go away.”

Ray must have been exercising. There was a sheen of sweat over his face, and he was dressed in a black T-shirt and baggy gray shorts. The clothes drew Fraser’s attention. Was it possible that was the exact same outfit Ray used to wear for his workouts? Fraser knew that Ray didn’t discard things easily, but surely those shorts would have been washed into rags after all these years.

Glancing around Ray’s new apartment, Fraser wasn’t sure if Ray still held onto things the way he used to. It was a large, loftlike space, and there was none of the comfortable clutter to which Fraser had become accustomed in Ray’s home. It felt almost empty. Perhaps Ray had gotten rid of a lot of his old things when he had moved.

Fraser saw a treadmill in one corner and a speed bag hanging on the wall nearby. It seemed Ray didn’t go out to a gym for exercise any more. Fraser looked at Ray again. After seeing Ray only in a suit, Fraser found the sight of his bare limbs distracting.

“Fraser.”

Fraser’s eyes jumped back to Ray’s face, and Ray didn’t look happy to see him.

“How did you even find me?”

“Does it matter?” Fraser hated the tone of his voice, but he couldn’t help feeling defensive. And Ray’s loud music was starting to make his head throb.

“Did Charlotte give you my address? I’d hate to have to fire her.”

“No, I spoke with your former landlady. She was very fond of you, you know.”

Ray rolled his eyes. “I think she was fond of _you_.” Ray walked over to a shelving system along one wall and flicked off the stereo. Then he turned to look at Fraser and shrugged, waiting. “What do you want?”

“I wanted to make sure you’re all right. You left so suddenly.”

Barking out a bitter laugh, Ray shook his head. “No,” he said. “No, I am not all right. I want to know why you’re here.”

“The conference, Ray. I—”

“Do not pull that with me, Fraser, or I swear . . .”

Fraser had forgotten how easily Ray could see through his disingenuousness. Fraser looked down at his hat. He couldn’t seem to stop spinning it in his hands. “I thought you wanted me to come.”

“Me?” Ray looked perplexed. “You mean here? Tonight? Or in Chicago?”

“I was told my presence at the conference was specifically requested. I thought you had—”

“Why would I want you to come?” Ray asked, honestly confused. The fact that Ray didn’t say it just to hurt Fraser’s feelings made it sting that much more. “I don’t know who asked for you, but it wasn’t me.”

Fraser didn’t know how to respond. They looked at each other for several long minutes, until Ray turned away.

“I’m sorry, Ray. I don’t mean to intrude.”

Ray didn’t speak.

“But I am glad to see you,” Fraser said.

Ray looked back at Fraser, suspicious.

“I’ve wondered . . . how you are. I wanted to see you.”

Ray frowned and said, “OK, you’ve seen me. Now you can go back where you belong.”

Although Ray said it in anger, in a way it made Fraser feel better. Ray started to close the door, but Fraser said, “You’re right, Ray. I do belong there. I’m glad you understand that now.”

The door stopped just before it shut. Then it swung open again.

Ray squinted at Fraser. “Understand it now? What does that mean?”

“Just what I said. I’m glad you understand that I had to stay home.”

“Yeah, but you say it like I didn’t understand it before.”

“Ray, you were going back to Chicago, and I couldn’t leave home again, but—”

“I was going to stay!”

“Stay?” Fraser took a step into the apartment. “In Canada?”

“Yeah, what the hell did you think?”

“But Ray, that’s . . .” Fraser was sure Ray couldn’t possibly mean what he was saying. “You wouldn’t have been happy there.”

“How do you know?” Ray started pacing around the large room, leaving Fraser standing just inside the threshold. “How do you know I wouldn’t have been happy? Don’t you think I thought about it?”

“Thought about what?” Fraser asked.

“About _us_. Weeks and weeks up there on a damn dogsled. You think it never entered my mind? That I never thought about what would happen after that night? Of course I thought about it.”

Fraser shook his head, unable to answer.

“Why do you think I waited to the last minute? I thought if I got back to running water and real food and I still thought living in some crappy cabin in the middle of the Canadian nowhere sounded good, then it was _real_.”

When Fraser remembered that night, he thought of it as Ray being impulsive. But when Fraser forced himself to think clearly, to honestly recall what had happened, he saw there had been nothing rushed or reckless in Ray’s manner. His initial advances had been deliberate and purposeful. He had been passionate but not out of control.

Fraser groped for something to say. “You’d been drinking.”

Ray fixed him with an angry stare. “One beer, Fraser. I wasn’t drunk.”

Fraser thought about the weight Ray had lost during their trip and the fact that Ray hadn’t consumed any alcohol during that time. He was convinced Ray was underestimating the effect that one drink might have had but avoided the issue in favor of other arguments.

“Ray, I remember very clearly how happy you were to be going home. The next morning you took one look at me, knew I wasn’t going with you, and that was it.”

Ray made a strangled noise, but Fraser continued.

“Everything about being ‘back in civilization,’ as you called it, made you happy. Taking a hot shower, the food in the restaurant, sleeping in a real bed—”

“Fraser!”

Fraser stopped and looked at Ray.

“Jeez,” Ray said and pointed a finger at Fraser. “You’re not even putting on an act now, are you?” Ray stalked over to Fraser until his finger was almost touching Fraser’s chest. “The reason I was happy about all that stuff was because I promised myself I wouldn’t jump you until we were clean and fed and could do it in a real bed without freezing our asses off. It wasn’t about going home. I didn’t want to go home.”

Ray let his hand drop and stepped back.

“And it wasn’t over because I thought you weren’t coming with me. It was over because the first words out of your mouth were ‘Your plane leaves in an hour.’ ”

“Ray—”

Ray threw both hands up in the air. “Wait a minute! I see what you’re doing. Is this what you’ve been doing the last five years? Thinking of all the reasons it was _my_ fault? I wanted you to come back to Chicago? I was drunk? Bullshit, Fraser. That’s all bullshit.”

Fraser realized his mouth was hanging open and snapped it shut.

Fraser thought carefully about that morning. He remembered lying there, trying to stay perfectly still so as not to wake Ray too early. He remembered feeling suffocated in the overheated room. In his head he kept hearing his father, several years dead and several weeks truly gone. Once his father had said, _Partnership is like a marriage_ , but Fraser doubted he had anything like this in mind.

When Fraser found it hard to stay still any longer, he rose and dressed. Ray lay sprawled in the rumpled bed on his belly, one arm pillowing his head. The sheet only half-covered him, leaving his back and shoulders bare. They hadn’t closed the curtains, and the early morning light that came through the window made Ray’s hair and skin glow golden. He looked like a figure from an allegorical painting: temptations of the flesh.

Fraser sat in the armchair for hours, watching Ray sleep. When he noticed Ray starting to stir, Fraser grew more anxious. He couldn’t imagine how Ray would react when he woke. Fraser knew Ray was fully awake when his mouth curled into a small smile, before his eyes were even open. The sight made Fraser hold his breath.

Ray reached out to the side of the bed where Fraser had been lying and, when he found Fraser gone, pushed up on his elbows and looked around. He saw Fraser in the chair and started to smile more broadly, but something in Fraser’s expression must have warned him. Ray’s face simply collapsed. And that’s when Fraser had said it: “Your plane leaves in an hour.”

Fraser had told himself he was giving Ray an escape route. An easy way to walk away from the mistake they’d made. Fraser had been so certain that they had charged ahead, unthinking, and it couldn’t have lasted. It would have been better never to have started. Ray belonged in Chicago, with a loving wife and the kids he’d always wanted.

Over the last five years, Fraser had told himself so often that that night had been a mistake—a big misunderstanding—he had made himself truly believe it. He knew now that he had made mistakes, but there had been no misunderstanding. Fraser had known exactly what he was doing. He had made a decision and sent Ray away, persuading himself that he was doing it for Ray’s own good.

Fraser tore his eyes away from his hands, still fidgeting, bending the brim of his hat out of shape.

Ray was still as statue, glaring at Fraser. Anger flared up in Fraser’s belly. Even as he spoke, Fraser knew that he was angry at himself, not Ray, but he listened in horror to his own shaking voice. “Well, Ray, you’ll have to forgive me, but I thought you agreed with me.”

“Agreed with you?”

“That we should part ways,” Fraser explained. He had regained his equilibrium and was able to speak with even, exaggerated politeness, knowing that Ray would hear the anger hidden there. “After all, I had seen how you responded to your ex-wife’s insistence that your relationship with her was over. The fact that you never once raised an objection, that you got on that plane having barely said three words to me made me think that our relationship was nowhere near as important to you.”

Fraser expected and perhaps wanted some kind of fierce reaction, but Ray stood, still unmoving, looking far more wounded than outraged.

“Was that what it was? Some kind of test? To see if I cared enough to keep chasing you like I did Stella?”

“No, that wasn’t—”

“Cause I couldn’t do it again, OK?” Ray shook his head. “I couldn’t kill myself like that again over somebody who didn’t want me. Like beating my head against a brick wall.” Then Ray reached out and put one hand on the doorknob, staring at the floor. “Just get outta here.”

“Ray,” Fraser pleaded. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“No, Fraser.”

Fraser waited for several moments, but when it became clear Ray had nothing else to say, Fraser turned and walked out of the building.

*****

The next morning, Fraser arrived at the office as instructed. Ms. Harper approached him and offered tea, and he tried to focus on what she was saying, but his attention was on Ray, who was pacing at the other side of the room. The space was crowded with Ray’s subordinates and conference members, and Ray couldn’t take more than a few steps without bumping into someone, which was obviously adding to his irritation.

Gone was Ray’s calm, professional demeanor that had so surprised Fraser on the first day. He was waving his arms and growling commands at his assistants. He obviously hadn’t shaved, and he wasn’t wearing his glasses. His hair was standing up in every direction, and he kept running a hand through it, making it wilder by the moment. Instead of the suits Fraser had gotten used to seeing over the past few days, he was wearing jeans with his old black leather jacket. Ray looked like himself. Fraser was mesmerized.

“What the hell, Charlotte?” Ray almost shouted, waving a handful of cardstock in Ms. Harper’s face. “Where did these come from?”

Her answer was too quiet for Fraser to hear, but clearly it didn’t satisfy Ray. He spun away from her and strode out into the hall.

“Benner!” Ray called, “Get in here.”

A tall, dark man approached Ray and stood in from of him, arms folded over his chest like a sullen teenager. Ray looked at him with disgust but didn’t raise his voice. Instead he whispered. The whole room pretended not to be straining to hear.

Fraser used Ray’s distraction to approach Charlotte. “Excuse me, Ms. Harper, but I wonder if I might be of assistance?”

She flashed a rueful smile at Fraser before turning her gaze back to Ray. “No, thank you, Sergeant Fraser. We’ve just . . . There’s been a mix-up. A bunch of the response cards that we sent out never came back, but that’s normal. Most people don’t RSVP, that’s just how it goes, and we plan for it. But a whole pile of positive responses just turned up—they’d come back weeks ago and gotten lost.”

“So suddenly there are extra people?”

“Thirty-two,” she sighed.

Fraser nodded. “And there isn’t a way to make room for them?”

Ms. Harper shook her head. “The room was pretty tight as it was. We can’t even squeeze in one extra table, much less four or five. Plus we just got a call from the fire marshal. We were going to seal those rear doors to control access to the area—we thought the main doors and side doors would be enough, but the marshal says no. So now we need to find extra security for that back hallway. Ray’s . . . Well, it’s a difficult situation.”

Ray’s voice came from across the room. “Charlotte!”

“Excuse me,” she said before darting over to Ray’s side. She remained calm, resting one hand on his forearm, but Fraser could almost hear Ray’s teeth grinding in frustration. He pulled his arm out of Charlotte’s grasp and began pacing again along the far wall of the conference room while she called for everyone’s attention.

“In light of these new obstacles, we thought it might be helpful to meet on-site, so that we can discuss with hotel management what can be done. I’m calling for several cars to take us over. Please meet in the lobby so that we’re ready to leave as soon as the cars arrive. Thank you.”

Fraser could not take his eyes off Ray as he strode back and forth. Seeing Ray like that, pure kinetic energy, his rage just barely controlled, brought a blush to Fraser’s face.

When everyone else had gone, Charlotte herded Ray out as well, leaving Fraser alone. He sat at the table for a few moments, trying to compose himself, then ventured out into the hallway. He found Ray in his office, sitting at the computer. With his right hand, Ray was holding a pen and sliding the mouse across the desk, while with his left he held a phone to his ear.

After slamming down the phone, Ray reached into a drawer under the desk. Without even looking he pulled out a bottle of antacid tablets and dumped several onto his desk. He snapped the bottle shut, threw it back into the drawer, and popped one tablet after another into his mouth, still manipulating the mouse. The printer next to his monitor came to life and started spewing out pages.

“Sergeant Fraser?”

Fraser turned to see Ms. Harper walking down the corridor toward him. He stepped out of her way.

“Can I help you?”

“No, thank you,” Fraser answered quietly. “I was just—”

“Fraser?” Ray said. Fraser looked up to see him coming out of his office. He was frowning. “What’re you doing here?”

Fraser tried to answer, but Ray interrupted him.

“The cars are gone by now, Fraser. You’re supposed to be at the hotel with everyone else.”

Ms. Harper cleared her throat. “Why don’t you take him, Ray? I’ll meet you there.”

Ray looked panicked but recovered quickly. “You’re not driving with me?”

“No, I need stop on the way and pick up those extra headsets Benner kept insisting on. Besides, the two of you haven’t had any time to get caught up,” she said, smiling. “When I called to see if Sergeant Fraser could come, I wanted him here to get you reconnected, but I know you’ve been so busy, Ray. You haven’t had any time for him.”

“ _You_ asked for Fraser?” Ray asked, his voice sounding strained.

“Yeah, I thought it would be a nice surprise. Every time you talk about him, it seems like you really miss him.” Ms. Harper smiled and reached for the papers Ray was holding. “I’ll get these copies made and get there as soon as I can. You two go ahead. At least it’ll give you a few minutes.”

“Yeah, okay,” Ray said. He watched Ms. Harper charging away down the hall. Then he looked at Fraser and sighed. “Let’s go.”

In the elevator Fraser couldn’t resist asking, “You told Ms. Harper about me?”

Ray shrugged, not looking at Fraser. He pushed the P button repeatedly with one finger. “I just told her about the crazy stuff we did. It made her laugh. I guess it made us friends in a weird way.”

When the elevator reached the garage, Ray headed straight for his car. He unlocked the passenger door, but Fraser didn’t get in immediately.

“Ray? I wouldn’t have thought you would talk about me at all. I—”

“Just get in the car.”

Ray got in and slammed the door.

“I’m just glad you have good memories, too,” Fraser said as he sat down.

Ray leaned over and rested his head on the steering wheel.

“Ray? I’m sorry. I—”

“I cannot do this now,” Ray groaned, sitting up. “I have to get to the hotel and be in charge. I can’t . . . Let’s just pretend, OK? Let’s pretend like everything’s OK. Like we used to be partners, and now we’re not, and that’s all there is.”

That wasn’t what Fraser wanted at all. He at least wanted a chance to apologize, but he didn’t want to upset Ray further. “All right, Ray.”

“OK.” Ray turned the key in the ignition and navigated out of the parking garage. He reached up and rubbed his hand over his face, and Fraser could hear the rasping sound of his stubble against his fingers. Fraser’s own fingers itched to touch.

At the corner they had to stop for a red light. When it changed to green, the car still didn’t move. Usually being the first car to pull away from a traffic light was an excuse for Ray to accelerate as quickly as possible, so at first Fraser was concerned. Then he noticed two young women stepping off the curb in front of them.

The rain must have made the street slippery, and that, together with their high-heeled shoes, was making it difficult for the women to cross safely. With the GTO stopped in one lane, they were at least partially protected from the flow of traffic. One of the women looked up and waved her hand in thanks, and Ray waved in return.

“That was very kind of you, Ray,” Fraser said, impressed with Ray’s patience, especially after the trying morning he’d had.

“It only takes an extra second to be courteous.”

Fraser was surprised into silence, having his own words repeated back to him like that. He felt a strange surge of pride that Ray had actually absorbed some understanding of the importance of civility and thoughtfulness, but then it occurred to him that Ray was probably just mocking him.

He studied Ray’s face, but it gave him no clue about what Ray was thinking. He still looked tense, but Fraser thought he also saw a hint of smile. He decided not to ask about it further.

“You’re absolutely right, Ray,” Fraser said after a moment’s pause.

When he looked over again, Ray looked thoughtful.

“So how you been, Fraser?” 

Fraser was surprised. Ray had asked if they could pretend, but Fraser hadn’t thought the charade would extend so far as small talk. Ray had been near the breaking point during the meeting, and since Ray hadn’t even let him apologize, Fraser thought it might be better for both of them if they drove to the hotel with a minimum of conversation.

“I’ve been . . . I’ve been—” Fraser stammered.

“You look tired,” Ray interrupted.

Fraser felt taken aback, but the remark was no better than he deserved. “Yes, I . . .” _I can’t sleep_ , he almost said, but he stopped himself. “I suppose I’ve been focusing on work.”

Ray snorted. “You say that like it’s something new.”

Fraser started to object, but Ray cut him off.

“I mean, you always were about the job, right?”

“I’m not sure that’s—”

“Come on, Fraser. Would we even have been friends if we hadn’t worked together? I don’t think so.”

Fraser thought about Ray’s question. The answer should have been obvious, but Fraser didn’t like to think that circumstance was the only thing that had brought them together. Mere chance. Ray seemed to be waiting for some kind of response.

“Maybe you’re right, Ray. My work is the only thing that gives me some degree of contentment.”

“Contentment?”

“Yes,” Fraser confirmed.

“Just content?” Ray frowned. “Not happy?”

Fraser considered the question for a moment. “I’m not sure I understand what you’re asking.”

Ray sighed. “Content is just, you know, things are OK. Happy is more like things are good, not just OK. Happy means more than just the absence of bad.”

“I suppose I’m content then.” Maybe not even that if by Ray’s definition _content_ indicated _absence of bad_.

Ray nodded and then squinted through the windshield. “Oh, man.”

Fraser looked up and saw that traffic had come to a standstill. A huge box truck was sitting diagonally in the middle of the intersection ahead. It hadn’t felt very cold to Fraser, but perhaps the rain was freezing on the roads and made the truck driver lose control. Ray exhaled in a huff of frustration.

“And you?” Fraser asked. “Are you happy?”

Ray glanced over at Fraser. “I don’t think _happy_ enters into the equation anymore.”

“Oh, Ray,” Fraser scolded.

“What? You just said you’re not happy. Why is it different for me?”

“Because I don’t think I’ve ever been happy.”

Ray was silent for a minute. “Never?”

“Happy? Truly happy?” Fraser wished he hadn’t allowed the conversation to take such a personal turn, but he didn’t know how to stop it. He had been so desperate to speak with Ray that he didn’t want to do anything that might make Ray close up again, but now Fraser was afraid everything he said sounded like he was asking for pity. Fraser looked at Ray, who was frowning thoughtfully. “Maybe as a small child . . . When have you been happy, Ray? Totally and completely happy?”

Ray shrugged and counted on his fingers as he made a list. “When my parents got me a brand new ten-speed bike for my birthday. I think I was ten. When me and my dad were working on the GTO. When me and Stella first got married. When I made detective. When we were on the quest.” He shrugged again and let his hand fall back onto the steering wheel.

Fraser wanted to say, _I was happy then too, together on our quest_ , but it would sound ridiculous now, and Fraser wasn’t sure it was entirely true. There were times when he’d been thrilled just to be with Ray and share everything he loved about his home, but he had never truly been happy. He had spent far too much time and energy worrying about the day Ray would leave.

“What about your new job? You seem to be . . . fitting in well.”

Ray slouched in his seat and looked sheepish.

“Yeah, it’s OK, I guess. I don’t know. It just kinda happened. I wanted to leave the force, and Stella knew a guy starting this security company. I figured, you know, what else do I know how to do?”

“Ray, you have many talents—”

Ray bristled. “No, Fraser. Do not do that. I’m not asking for one of your little pep talks. You don’t get to do that anymore.”

Fraser took a breath and pushed aside his hurt feelings. He tried to think of a way to keep the conversation focused on Ray. “Why did you leave the force? You were a good detective, and it seemed to make you happy.”

Again it seemed that Fraser said the wrong thing. Ray scowled and slid further down in his seat. When he finally spoke, his voice was very quiet. “After I got back, it just wasn’t the same. Tried more undercover stuff, but it was like I’d lost my touch. Couldn’t do it anymore. Tried regular detective work, major crimes. Guy from IA even approached me, like that would ever happen. Then I got shot, and I just—”

“You were shot?” Fraser heard his own voice break. Ray, shot, bleeding, lying in the street somewhere, and Fraser hadn’t even known about it.

Ray appeared unconcerned about his injury but mystified that Fraser had never heard about it. “Yeah. Didn’t Vecchio tell you?”

“I’ve fallen out of touch, even with Ray.” Fraser said. Upset as he was about Ray being wounded, Fraser still had the presence of mind to be embarrassed.

“He was your best friend!”

_No, you’re my best friend_ , Fraser thought. He didn’t say anything.

Ray looked disgusted, and Fraser turned his head away. “The gunshot?” Fraser prompted. He thought about Ray in a hospital bed. Had Ray thought of him at all while lying there? Had Ray missed him? Or blamed him for not being there?

“It wasn’t that big a deal,” Ray sighed. “Shoulder wound. Went right through, nice and clean. Healed up good.”

Imagining the bullet cutting through Ray’s flesh, Fraser resisted the urge to reach over and touch Ray, to make sure he was in one piece. There were so many tendons and ligaments to be damaged in the shoulder.

The truck blocking traffic was moved to the side, and a police officer began directing cars through the intersection.

“Finally,” Ray said under his breath as he put the car in gear. “Anyway, it wasn’t really that I got shot, you know? It was more how it happened. It was stupid. Careless. Made me realize how much I was losing it. Then Stella came to the hospital and stayed with me until my mom could fly in. She was great. Vecchio even came in once.” Ray glanced at Fraser. “He’s a pretty good guy. He and Stella are good together.” Ray shook his head a little. “So she was hanging out with me, and she could tell I was miserable, that something was bothering me, something more than getting shot, so she kept nagging and nagging. ‘What’s wrong? What’s the matter with you?’ And finally I just told her.”

Fraser froze. He stared, unseeing, out the window. “You told her? About . . . ?”

“Yeah, I mean, she’s like family now.” Ray stopped the car in front of the barrier at the hotel garage ramp. “It was . . . good, actually. I think it made it easier for her. Like she knew I was really over her or something.” The gate opened and Ray drove through.

As Ray pulled the car into a parking space, Fraser cleared his throat. “Does Ray know?”

Ray’s face twisted in disgust. “I do not know, Fraser. I really don’t care.” He got out of the car and slammed the door.

Shame twisted in Fraser’s gut. He shouldn’t have asked. He slowly climbed out and turned to face Ray, who was looking at his shoes.

“Look, Fraser, I can’t—Jesus.” Ray put one hand over his eyes. When he moved his hand away, he looked angry. “I can’t be around you right now, OK? I can’t work like this.”

“But you’re needed here,” Fraser protested. “You can’t just disappear.”

“I’m not gonna disappear. You are. Let me do my job, Fraser. You don’t need to be here. Make yourself scarce for a few hours.”

*****

Fraser tried. He tried to wait in his hotel room until the conference started in the evening, but after almost three hours of bursting out into the hallway, returning to the room, and then pacing for as long as he could stand before doing it all over again, Fraser couldn’t bear feeling unsettled any longer. He had to talk to Ray.

He tore off his uniform and dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt. He didn’t want anyone from the conference stopping him just to chat, and his uniform would make it too easy for him to be recognized. Then he headed downstairs.

Ray was nowhere to be found. Fraser stalked around the various conference rooms, scanning for Ray in vain. Finally he saw a young man he recognized from Ray’s office and approached him.

He smiled. “Sergeant Fraser! How can I help you?”

“Have you seen Mr. Kowalski?”

“He left,” the man said, glancing at his watch. “About a half hour ago. Stuff to take care of at the office. I’m about to head back over there, so I can drive you if you want. It’s not a problem.”

Fraser agreed only to get to Ray as quickly as possible. As they rode through the city streets, Fraser became increasingly certain that this young man, barely more than a boy really, was _flirting_. He chattered cheerfully and once even reached over and patted Fraser’s knee. Fraser shut his eyes and reminded himself how long it would take to walk all those blocks.

The receptionist gave Fraser a huge smile when he came out of the elevator, but he barely slowed down. “I’m here to see Mr. Kowalski,” he said as strode by her desk. “I know the way. Thank you kindly.”

Passing through the door to the office proper, Fraser heard excited conversation coming from one of the conference rooms. He was anxious to speak to Ray, but the urgency of the voices made him pause.

A man asked, “But what happened?” 

“Nothing.” Fraser recognized Ms. Harper’s voice. “Nothing happened, guys. Come on.”

“Nothing?” said a second woman’s voice. “Are you kidding? He banged his head so hard it almost knocked him out!”

“You’re exaggerating,” Ms. Harper said, sounding stern.

“No, I’m not! Ray went nuts.”

“God, who could blame him. It’s been a rough day. Then those guys went off like that?”

“Mellema’s a jackass.”

Fraser wished he could see into the room. As he listened, he identified at least five different voices in addition to Ms. Harper’s.

“So what happened?”

“We were in the break room. Benner and Mellema were being jerks, making fun of the Canadians, especially the Mountie. Ray told them to shut their mouths, and Benner didn’t listen.”

“Then what happened?”

“The Mountie was Ray’s partner, right?”

“Yeah, they worked together when Ray did that big undercover thing.”

“Benner kept it up, and Ray came over to him and said it again, really quiet. Really slow. ‘Shut. Your. Mouth.’ It was kind of creepy. Benner tried to laugh it off. He stood up and made a crack about the Mountie being Ray’s boyfriend, and Ray just jumped him.”

“Oh, my God!”

“No way!”

“When was all this?”

“Just now. Ray just stormed out of here.”

Ms. Harper spoke, drowning out the other voices. “If Ray didn’t like Benner saying that crap, how do you think he’ll feel about all of you rehashing it like this?” There was a pause, but then the others ignored her and continued their discussion. Her intervention might not have done any good, but Fraser appreciated her loyalty to Ray. She didn’t want rumors to spread.

“Lighten up, Charlotte.”

“Yeah, we just want to know what happened.”

“So then he grabbed Benner and pushed him up against the Coke machine so hard it tilted back against the wall. Then he yelled that Fraser was twice the cop Benner ever was and slammed him up against the Coke machine again. Then me and Mellema pulled him off.”

Fraser’s heart skipped a beat and then pounded. Ray had defended him?

“Man, he was mad.”

“Jesus!”

“I know.”

“What’s with him?”

“Guys protect their partners.”

“How do you know?”

“I was a cop, remember?”

“For about five minutes you were a cop.”

“And about five years ago.”

“More like ten.”

“Benner was a cop, too. And what a gem he is.”

“All I’m saying is, a cop isn’t going to let some asshole call his partner names like that, make him sound like an idiot. I mean, come on, Benner practically called him a pansy.”

“But they’re not partners any—”

“Just stop it,” Ms. Harper said. “This conversation is over.” There was no arguing with her tone. There was silence.

Realizing the crowd in the conference room would soon be breaking up, Fraser knew he had to move away. He considered retreating to the lobby, but he needed to see Ray. Now. He almost ran past the conference room door and down the hall to Ray’s office.

Fraser opened the door without knocking and found Ray, both hands on top of his head, pacing the small rectangle of floor space. When Ray heard the door open, he whirled around. When he saw that it was Fraser, his hands dropped to his sides. Neither of them moved for a moment, and Fraser could see that Ray was shaking, still full of adrenaline from his confrontation with Benner.

Fraser pushed the door, and it slammed closed behind him. Then he stepped across the rug, took Ray’s head in both hands, and kissed him.

Ray froze and shoved Fraser away.

They stared at one another for several long minutes. Fraser thought Ray looked terrified. But then Ray took a deep breath, and he lunged for Fraser, pushing him back against the door. Ray closed his eyes and pressed his lips to Fraser’s. Fraser clung to Ray, wrapping both arms around his waist. Ray moaned and pushed his tongue into Fraser’s mouth, and Fraser couldn’t breathe. He slid one hand up Ray’s back and ran his fingers through his hair, tasting his mouth and feeling his lean, warm body pressed against him.

Ray grunted. Then he turned his face away and tried to pull back, but Fraser still had an arm around Ray’s waist and held him firmly. Ray pushed with both hands on Fraser’s chest, but he didn’t use much strength, so Fraser didn’t let go. He said Ray’s name to get him to look up, but when their eyes met, Ray was scowling.

“I don’t love you anymore,” Ray whispered.

Fraser stood still, watching Ray’s face, trying to see what Ray wanted from him. Ray seemed to be waiting for Fraser to react. So Fraser nodded slightly and said, “Understood.”

Fraser pulled Ray closer and kissed him again. Ray resisted, still pushing Fraser away, but then Fraser kissed up Ray’s jaw to his ear and traced the outer edge with his tongue, and the tension in Ray’s body melted away. He slumped forward, pushing one knee between Fraser’s legs, and Fraser could feel Ray’s erection pressing against his thigh.

_He still wants me_ , Fraser thought, sliding one hand down to grip Ray’s hip, pulling him closer. Relief and joy made Fraser’s knees shaky. He kissed Ray again. For a long moment everything was perfect, but then Ray’s muscles tensed.

“Fraser,” Ray said. He pulled away. “No.” He slid out of Fraser’s arms and stood as far away as he could in the small office.

Fraser tried to sound calm, “Ray—”

“No, Fraser,” Ray said again, with a shake of his head. “I’m not gonna let you do it.”

Fraser was still breathing heavily, and Ray didn’t seem to be making any sense.

Ray starting pacing again. “I do this now? When it doesn’t mean anything? You’ll be able to tell yourself that last time didn’t mean anything either.”

Fraser stayed silent.

“But it did,” Ray insisted. “It sure as hell meant something to me, and I know it did to you too. I know it.”

An image flashed into Fraser’s mind: the hint of a smile on Ray’s face when he first woke up that last morning. He had been happy. And Fraser had taken that happiness and thrown it away with both hands.

Ray had stopped in his tracks and was watching Fraser closely.

Fraser tried to focus, to choose his words carefully. “Ray, let me explain. I—”

“No, I don’t want you to explain anything. Cause I’ve figured it all out. You’re just a big fucking coward.”

Fraser opened his mouth to protest, but he was so shocked he couldn’t think of anything to say. He stared at Ray until he couldn’t stand the look on Ray’s face any longer and then turned his gaze to the floor.

“A coward,” Ray whispered. “What were you so afraid of? Huh? Were you worried about what people would say? Were you afraid you’d get tired of me? Or was it something else? You were just too afraid to take that leap, is that it? You have that whole Superman, Jimmy Stewart thing going on. Jumping off buildings, saving everyone, fighting for the little guy. And just being . . .” Ray grimaced and shrugged, his voice getting louder. “Whatever! Everybody thinks you’re perfect. Fearless. And I fell for it. Hook, line, and sinker. Before I even met you, I remember reading the files and thinking ‘Is this guy for real?’ You pulled the same kind of crap with Vecchio. Jumping out of cars, climbing tall buildings in a single bound, and you _can_ fight city hall . . . Even chasing after that crazy bitch on the train was brave in a fucked up kind of a way. I mean, you were ready to throw away everything—”

Ray’s voice caught, and Fraser looked up sharply. Ray’s eyes were filling with tears. He blinked and turned away. Fraser remembered when Ray wasn’t afraid to let him see the depth of his emotions.

Ray swiped at his face and then looked back to glare at Fraser. “How could you be brave like that for her and not for me?”

Fraser was frozen. He wanted to explain. He wanted to say something to make Ray feel better. He could feel Ray’s eyes studying him.

Ray pushed past Fraser to the office door and was gone.

*****

_Dear Ray,_

_I am writing to apologize for taking advantage of you this afternoon in your office. I allowed my restraint to be overwhelmed by own feelings without considering yours. It was inexcusable, especially in your place of work and in view of your obvious aversion to any further relationship of that sort between us. I know we hadn’t made many steps forward in rebuilding our friendship, but I sincerely hope my lapse hasn’t ruined what little progress there has been. I’m deeply sorry to have overstepped and to have upset you._

_I haven’t been able to stop thinking about everything you said to me, about my being a coward and having fooled everyone. It was difficult to hear, but you were right. I was a coward. I was afraid. I won’t argue with you about that. But there are a few things I would like a chance to explain, if you’ll be patient._

_First, I never worried that I would get tired of you. Never. It’s unimaginable that you would ever be any less fascinating to me than you were on the first day I met you. There must be more explanation for my second concern: your assessment of the situation with Victoria Metcalf._

_When you first mentioned her, I was surprised. I knew that you must have read the file concerning my history with her when you were researching your undercover assignment, but, although I have not read that file myself, I know that Ray Vecchio was very careful when he composed it. Where he couldn’t describe what happened without implicating me, he was purposefully vague. He cleared me of any wrongdoing, an act of friendship I didn’t deserve and for which I will always be grateful. I was surprised when you referred to that night by the train and clearly knew that I had been chasing her not to apprehend her, but to follow her._

_I shouldn’t have been surprised. You know me better than anyone. And even though I know I was wrong to try to follow her, I like to think that you would have done the same thing, had you been in my place. One of the things that has always impressed me—amazed me—is your ability to throw yourself into things. To trust your feelings. I have never had that talent. Perhaps you can understand why I don’t allow myself to act on my instincts more often when you think about what happened the one time I did exactly that._

_But you were wrong about one thing: chasing after Victoria Metcalf was not bravery on my part. It wasn’t fearless and romantic. It wasn’t a grand gesture of passion. It was a kind of suicide._

_When you asked me why I couldn’t be brave for you like I had been for her, I realized what had happened between us five years ago. I know you think you were asking a lot less than she had. You weren’t asking me to give up my life, my work, my friends, or my principles. You weren’t asking me to be something I’m not. But what you were asking was, for me, so much more difficult. You wanted to stay with me, just asking me to leave a little room for you in my life while being willing to give up yours entirely._

_But if you had left your whole life behind you and come to live with me, it would have to have been more than a partnership. It would have to have been a marriage, in truth. Without that kind of commitment, our relationship would always have been unequal. You wanted me to have everything: my home, my work, and you, but you could only give all of that to me by giving up everything yourself. If you made that kind of sacrifice without getting something in return, we both would have come to resent the situation._

_If I had asked you to stay with me, it would have been completely selfish unless I made certain promises—promises I wasn’t sure I could keep. I would have had to think of self-preservation instead of being able to give anything and everything in the line of duty. You and our relationship would have to the be the most important things in my life. I was afraid that I couldn’t do it. So yes, I was a coward. A mentally unstable coward at that, since I found risking my own death or incarceration much easier than a commitment to protecting myself, you, and the life we could have built together._

_I understand now how very foolish I’ve been. I thought, by letting you go, I would be relieving myself of the responsibilities that so terrified me. After you left, I wanted to rush out, risking life and limb in the service of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. But I couldn’t. I think that while there was even the slightest hope of being with you again, even just seeing you again, part of me wanted to keep myself safe. I see now that I’ve already been behaving as if I had made those commitments to you, because in my heart, I already had. You and our relationship already are the most important things—already were, even before that night._

_I persuaded myself that terrible morning that I was doing the noble thing: giving you up because I couldn’t give you what you deserved, but you’re right. I was a coward. I thought I knew what was best, and I made my decision. I was a coward and a fool._

_Again, I’m sorry. I don’t write this letter to beg for forgiveness or to absolve myself. I accept full responsibility for the breach between us. I think I’m writing because I couldn’t stand to have you think so little of me. I hate knowing that all of your thoughts of me are tainted by my cowardice. I hope that you might think better of me now that I’ve explained. I only regret that I came to understand all of this only now, when it’s too late to do either of us any good. I’m sorry, Ray, and I will always love you._

Fraser folded the letter and stuffed into an envelope without reading it. He knew that if he hesitated, if he questioned himself at all, he would never be able to give the letter to Ray, and if he returned home without trying to explain, he would always regret it. It had taken Fraser several hours to walk back to the hotel and write the letter. Certainly by that point Ray would be downstairs taking care of last minute details. Fraser left his room and went to find him.

Not far from the conference ballroom, Fraser spotted Ray in the hallway and called out his name. Holding out the envelope, Fraser approached, in spite of the face Ray made.

“Ray, would you—”

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

Ray’s scowl constricted. “No way. Forget it.”

“Why won’t you take my letter?”

“Cause I don’t want to read it.” Ray turned and started to walk away.

Fraser followed. “Ray.”

“Can’t you just drop it?”

“No, Ray, I—”

Ray spun around to face Fraser. “I’m not gonna read your stupid letter just to make you feel better. I don’t know what you think you gotta say to me, but if you can’t say it to my face, right here, right now, then forget it.” Ray closed his mouth into a hard line and looked at Fraser expectantly.

Fraser couldn’t think of anything to say. He glanced both ways to see if anyone else was in the hall, a gesture not lost on Ray, who let out a disgusted snort. “Didn’t think so.” Ray tried again to move away from Fraser, but this time Fraser reached out and grabbed Ray’s elbow. Ray shook off Fraser’s hand with an angry jerk of his arm.

“Fraser!”

“Please, I just wanted to explain. And I wanted to say goodbye.”

“We said goodbye. Remember? Five years ago. At a tiny little airport in the middle of nowhere.”

“You’re not being fair.”

“Fair?” Ray sneered. Then he turned away and didn’t look back at Fraser. “You tore my heart out, Fraser,” Ray almost whispered. He took a deep breath before continuing with considerably more volume. “Then after all this time you come down here and ask me if I’m happy? Well, guess what, Fraser? I’m not happy! I’m miserable. I’m bored and really fucking lonely. And then you try to—what? I don’t even know what that was in my office. All of that crap, and I didn’t punch you in the face. I think I’ve been more than fair.”

Ray stayed there, not moving, and for a moment Fraser thought he was going to relent. At least take the letter. But Ray left Fraser standing there foolishly, holding his envelope, and strode down the hall toward the exit.

“Ray, please—”

Ray whirled around and fixed Fraser with a glare. “What the hell do you want from me, Fraser?”

“I . . . I wish you would read my letter, Ray,” Fraser said, thinking that Ray wouldn’t be so infuriated if he only _understood_.

Ray spun away again. He banged open one of the drab-gray metal doors and disappeared into the drizzle outside. The door slammed shut behind him.

Fraser heard the echo of his father’s voice. It accused him of being too logical and dispassionate. _Sometimes you just have to leap_. It was one of the few times his father’s advice had been sound.

Fraser rushed to the door, not even slowing down as he pushed through. He looked right, then left, scanning the street for Ray, but the sidewalks were almost deserted. The rain had driven most everyone inside. In both directions, Fraser could see only characterless office buildings and hotels punctuated by the occasional coffee shop.

He turned to the left and took off like a shot, not allowing himself to think. He ran as quickly as he dared, his head pivoting from side to side to peer into windows and down alleys. He didn’t want to pass by Ray without seeing him. Although he doubted Ray would be stopping for coffee in his current frame of mind, he might have taken cover from the rain. It wasn’t terribly heavy, but as Fraser moved he could feel it soaking through the flannel of his shirt and seeping into his boots. He stopped and turned in a circle. Surely if Ray had come in this direction Fraser would have caught up with him by now.

He was off again, ignoring the increasing rain, retracing his path, and dashing past the hotel. He ran four more blocks before he forced himself to admit defeat. It was ridiculous to assume that Ray would stay on the main thoroughfare—he could have turned any corner. The sterility of the city was maddening: no mud or snow to collect footprints, no broken leaves or bent grasses to mark a trail. Fraser wished for Dief, longed for anything that could him some kind of clue where to go. He had been foolish to imagine that he would find Ray in this maze of unfamiliar streets.

For all Fraser knew, Ray had taken his car. If so, Fraser would never catch up with him on foot, even if he knew which direction Ray had headed. Of course, he should have looked for Ray’s car first. He raced back to the hotel garage and scanned the rows of cars, but the dark, muscled shape of the GTO was not there. The stairwell door slammed repeatedly as Fraser sped down to the next level and the next.

On the bottom level of the garage, Fraser had already decided to look at each floor more thoroughly, was already planning his route to make absolutely certain that he could see every car clearly, but he caught sight of the GTO the moment he emerged from the stairwell.

He approached cautiously. Was he imagining a dark shape in the driver’s seat? In the dim light of the garage, Fraser was almost in arm’s reach before he could see clearly into the shadows of the car’s interior. Ray was there, slumped behind the wheel, staring through the windshield at the concrete wall in front of him.

Fraser knocked with one knuckle on the glass. At the sound, Ray’s head snapped to the side. His expression was indecipherable, but his anger had obviously dissipated. He lowered the window but didn’t speak.

“Forget the letter,” Fraser said. “It’s nothing. Apologies, excuses. It’s not what I really want to say to you.”

Ray’s head tilted to one side, and he squinted up at Fraser. “So what do you really want to say?”

After only a moment’s hesitation, Fraser reached for the door handle. “Would you mind stepping out of the car?”

With a loud sigh and a roll of his eyes, Ray climbed out, stood, crossed his arms over his chest, and stared at Fraser.

Fraser moved slowly, deliberately, giving Ray plenty of time to escape. Putting first one hand and then the other on Ray’s shoulders, Fraser leaned close and pressed his lips to Ray’s. His blood was rushing in his ears, and it took him a moment to realize that Ray was kissing him back.

This was nothing like the kisses in Ray’s office. Fraser had forgotten what this was like—the feel of Ray’s hand in his hair and Ray’s hot mouth, nothing held back. Wrapping his arms around Ray’s back, Fraser heard himself moan and parted his lips as Ray’s tongue slid inside. Ray kissed like it was the only thing in the world that mattered. Fraser didn’t want to move away, not ever, but he needed to make himself clear. He held Ray close, but pulled back enough to look into Ray’s face.

“Ray?”

Ray opened his eyes. Fraser could see suspicion there, but there was something expectant too, just enough to give Fraser encouragement. He took a deep breath.

“Five years ago you were willing to leave everything behind—your home and your job, your family and friends—and stay with me. I know I haven’t given you any reason to—”

“Fraser,” Ray said.

“Yes, Ray?”

“Shut up and ask me already.”

Fraser clutched the leather of Ray’s jacket in his hands. “Will you come home with me? Will you stay?”

Before Fraser had even finished speaking, Ray was nodding and leaning close. Fraser nudged Ray’s collar aside and pressed a kiss on his neck.

“Jesus, Fraser, what took you so long?”

Fraser lifted his head. “Apparently I excel at deluding myself. For at least the first six months after you left—”

“No, no, not that. I mean now. Today. I’ve been sitting here, waiting for you.” Ray reached up and ran his hand over Fraser’s dripping hair. “Were you running around looking for me?”

Fraser nodded.

“You did notice that it’s raining, right?”

“Well, yes, Ray, of course.”

“You really are a freak. You know that?”

“Yes, Ray.” Fraser couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of Ray’s mouth. “How did you know I’d follow you?”

“I was hoping.” Ray shrugged and gave a small smile. “After I cooled down, anyway. Sometimes you being such a stubborn bastard is a good thing. The way you kept coming back and chasing me down? I figured we weren’t done yet.”

Fraser kissed him again, unable to resist the curve of his lips. Ray let out a sigh and pushed even more tightly against Fraser’s body. It hardly seemed possible that everything could be resolved so easily. Though he knew it might ruin the mood, Fraser felt he must apologize. Pulling away again, he said very simply, “I’m sorry, Ray.”

Ray frowned and shook his head. He leaned in for another quick kiss, then said, “Let me ask you something. What would you have done if I’d come back up there after a year or two. If I’d just showed up on your doorstep with a couple of bags and said, ‘I’m staying. Deal with it.’ Would you have wanted me then?”

“Would I—? Oh, Ray.”

Ray grimaced. “See? I could’ve ended all this too, and I didn’t. I should’ve swallowed my pride, bought some long johns, and charged up there. But I didn’t. So no more ‘I’m sorry,’ OK?”

*****

Late that night, Fraser woke in Ray’s bed. He was alone and for a split second felt panic, but then he heard Ray’s voice in the other room. Fraser got up and went to the door, opening it a crack.

“Don’t know exactly,” Ray was saying into the telephone. “I gotta get the condo on the market. And I guess I should give two weeks’ notice.”

Fraser pushed the door further open until he could see Ray, who was sitting on the couch in baggy pajama pants.

“Well, yeah, Mom, I have to. Otherwise it’d be a heck of a commute . . . No, but it’ll work out. I have some savings, and once the condo sells I—” Ray sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Stella always said it was a good investment. I just talked to her—”

Again Ray sighed and flopped back to slouch on the cushions behind him. “Yeah, I told her. No, it’s OK, she knew. She’s OK. Anyway, she said she thinks the place will sell right away. Anyway, Fraser’s not gonna let me starve. I’ll be fine.”

Fraser was surprised that Ray was already calling his parents, had already called Stella, but perhaps he shouldn’t have been. On the drive home the night before, Ray had turned to him and joked, _Should we head north right now? Or you want to pick up your stuff at the hotel first?_ That he could be so casual and confident about upending his life was almost incomprehensible.

“Mom, I _have_ thought about it. I’ve been thinking about it for years . . . OK . . . Will you tell Dad to come and pick up the GTO sometime?”

Fraser felt a twinge of guilt, thinking of Ray giving up his beloved car, and apparently Mrs. Kowalski expressed concern as well.

“Nah, it’s OK. It just won’t work up there. I’ll get something with four-wheel drive . . . Yeah . . . Yeah, I’m _sure_.”

Fraser knew he was eavesdropping, and there really was no excuse for it, but how could Fraser pass up such a lucky opportunity? Mrs. Kowalski was doing exactly what he wanted to do himself. She was forcing Ray to think through his decision, to explain it. Fraser was afraid if he tried to question Ray about his job and his car, Ray would think Fraser was being cowardly or trying to change his mind. Mrs. Kowalski was doing Fraser’s work for him, and he decided if she was satisfied with Ray’s answers, he would have to be satisfied as well.

“Look, Mom. I was happy when I was up there with Fraser before. It makes me happy to be with him . . . It’s—no, he’s—Wait.” Ray stopped and took a breath. “You know Fraser’s not my partner anymore, right? Well, he is, but not—I mean, I haven’t talked to him for a while, but he’s here now, and—Jeez.” Ray rubbed his hand all over his face. “Mom? I love him. I’m going up there to be with him, and everything’s going to be fine.”

Ray was very still, waiting, and Fraser held his breath. Then, as quietly as he could, Fraser pulled the door closed and went back to bed. He had no idea whether Ray had been able to put his mother’s fears to rest, but Fraser had heard more than enough to be persuaded.

The End


End file.
